


Klaine Smutvent 2017

by chasingkerouac



Category: Glee
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 09:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingkerouac/pseuds/chasingkerouac
Summary: A collection of smutty Klaine one-shots for the Klaine Advent 2017.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Kurt is stuck in the airport, and Blaine sends him a special audio file to stoke the home fires.
> 
> Word: Attachment

_:::Hi Honey! Sorry to hear about your plane delay.  Since I know you have trouble sleeping on planes, I’ve attached one of the special Christmas stories you like to listen to this time of year.  I’m reading it myself – a little taste of home for you.  Just make sure you have your earphones in – I don’t want to embarrass you with my Santa impression **kissy face emoji**  MISS YOU **kissy face emoji** **red heart emoji** **two guys dancing emoji**_

Kurt smiled as he clicked through the email to add the file to his podcast library.  He’d been out of town for work and desperate to get home in time for Christmas Eve, and now, of course, there was a snow storm barrelling through the area and delaying flights left and right.  Blaine really was the sweetest for sending him a story to listen to.  His reading voice was soothing enough to take some of the stress out of the day.  God, he loved that man.  So thoughtful, so considerate.

 _Hello Kurt_ , came Blaine’s soothing voice through his headphones.   _I’m going to tell you a little Christmas story.  So lean back, close your eyes, and imagine that I’m right there next to you.  The story is called Santa and his Jingle Bells._

That must be a new one, Kurt thought.  He wasn’t familiar with it.  But Blaine had a whole stack of children’s Christmas storybooks he’d pilfered from his mother’s house, so it didn’t surprise him that they hadn’t worked through all of them yet.

_Santa has a very special mission tonight.  His mission is to bring joy to all the good little boys and girls.  Now some might think that Santa is just some jolly old elf.  Well, he is jolly.  And he is a bit shorter than your average non-elf.  But he’s anything but old.  He’s ho ho here for you to make sure that you’re experiencing all of the Christmas joy you can._

This isn’t familiar.  This doesn’t even really make sense.  Is it an odd translation of a story?

_And Santa has two very special jingle bells to help him keep that promise to bring joy to good little boys and girls.  But mostly boys._

…what?

_Actually, only one boy.  Kurt, you’ve been a very good boy this year, and Santa wants to make sure that you’re feeling jolly.  He is._

…what?  There was silence, punctuated by rustling on the audio, followed by a breathless sigh from Blaine.

_Santa has his jingle bells in his hand, ready to ring them just for you._

Blaine’s voice was a whisper now, and Kurt instinctively leaned forward to listen closer.  This couldn’t be what it sounded like… could it?

_Mmm, yes… we need to polish those jingle bells, so that the magic can happen.  Christmas magic only comes from shiny, polished jingle bells.  Just a little… oh… yes, a little rub of my thumb right there underneath.  Oh… Kurt you know the spot.  Santa loves that little spot.  It makes his jingle bells… ugh… it makes them tighter._

Oh fuck, Blaine is masturbating and narrating it on his phone.  Kurt looks up in a panic, but everyone else in the terminal is minding their own business.  Reading magazines, and keeping an eye on the board for any news about the delay, and generally not listening to Blaine Anderson attempt to come while pretending to be Santa Claus.  

He should turn it off… right?  This isn’t proper to listen to in public.  There could be –

His thought was shattered by Blaine’s groan, and Kurt was certain that Blaine had just arced his back up off the bed because he knows that groan and that groan is the ‘pleasure just shot through both my balls and my back and who knows what else is going to shoot through my balls soon’ groan.  

He couldn’t turn it off.  He couldn’t.  He knew that sounds and…

_Santa wishes these were your hands…Kurt._

Fuck, the way that Blaine always popped the T at the end of his name shot a jolt of pleasure right through him.  Kurt tried to nonchalantly rest his magazine over his lap because he could already feel his dick starting to press against his leg and he was not going to be the pervert in the airport.  At least, he wasn’t going to get caught being the pervert in the airport.

_The jingle bells are ready to ring.  Santa… and his candy cane… unf… his candy cane feels so good in his hand, he wishes there was someone here to lick it.  It’s… fuck, Kurt…. It’s so smooth and begging to be in your mouth…_

Blaine was breathless.  He was close.  He always starts begging when he’s close to finishing.  Begging for lips on his dick, and his balls in Kurt’s palm, so that he can reach down and grab a fistfull of Kurt’s hair and pull him closer even as Kurt readies to suck him dry.

_I just… fuck, I don’t know… I can’t… Santa can’t hold out much longer.  God, I wish you were here, Kurt.  I’m going to… come on the bed… instead of in you… There… fuck, Kurt…_

Kurt realized he’d grabbed the arm of the uncomfortable boarding area bench hard enough to leave a mark on his palm.  But that was a small price to pay to keep his hand from unconsciously going to find and take care of his own little jingle bell issue as he listened to Blaine whine, climax, and breathe the four little gasps of breath that he always did as he looked up at the ceiling after coming.  His dick was uncomfortably positioned in between his legs right now, but he dare not move.  If he moved, he’d touch it, and if he touched it there would be no going back.  Not when he could still hear Blaine murmuring over the audio.

_Merry Christmas, honey.  Come home to me soon.  Santa will be ready for another round._

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep centering breath as the audio died out and he was once again conscious of his surroundings.  It took another minute before he trusted himself to let go of the armrest and pull up his email once again and reply.

_:::You’d better be in nothing but your jingle bells when I get there, Santa.  I’m gonna fuck your candy cane until the stripes come off._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we imagine if [this scene](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12908076/chapters/29489655) from Operation Secret Santa was a porno, instead of a rom-com.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word: Collapse

You’re doing great, Kurt assured himself as he clutched the file folder tighter and weaved his way through the rows of cubicles towards row 4.  He’d originally thought that he could find something Blaine left near the coffee table and conveniently return it to him, but Blaine never left anything behind.  He cleaned up the station, refilled the milk, and arranged the sugar substitutes by color.  He was that guy who left things better than they were originally.  So that was nixed.  Then Kurt considered asking a question about his job, so he checked the organization chart that was listed on the employee site to find out Blaine’s job title.  The org chart was last updated in August 2013 and didn’t list a Blaine Anderson.  No help there.  

So Kurt was left with the the most basic, and arguably obvious, way to strike up a conversation.

“Oh no!” Kurt gasped as he turned the corner sharply, bumped the side of the cubicle wall, and dropped the folders he was carrying, spilling paperwork all over the floor in front of Blaine’s cube.  “Dammit.”

He was certainly not above deception.

Blaine looked over at the commotion and smiled as the man dropped to his knees to pick up the files.  “Don’t apologize,” he murmured.  “I have to admit, this is the best view my desk has ever had.”

Kurt felt his breath catch as he looked up through his lashes to see Blaine smiling at him from his perch in his office chair.  “A happy coincidence,” he murmured.  He licked his bottom lip.  “You don’t get attractive young men on their knees in your cubicle?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Blaine replied.  He shifted in his chair, his legs spreading wider as he propped an elbow on his armrest and leaned his head against his hand.  “A real Christmas treat.”

Kurt tried to maintain eye contact, but the shift of Blaine’s legs drew his eyes down.  They were in the office, in a cubicle with no door, and dozens of people tap tap tapping away on their computers around them, so the last thing Kurt should be focusing on, or encouraging, was the noticeable bulge curving up under Blaine’s pants.  It was still obscured through layers (multiple?  Maybe Blaine wasn’t wearing any underwear.  That thought sent a shot right through Kurt gut) but it was obviously thick and more than happy to be the center of Kurt’s attention.  “I bet I know another Christmas treat you’d enjoy,” he murmured.

Blaine lifted an eyebrow.  “What kind of treat?”

They were in the office, there was no door, and there were people all around, but none of that mattered to Kurt as he pushed the pile of papers to the side and instead reached for Blaine’s belt.  “I think you know what kind of treat.”

Blaine reached down to still Kurt’s hand once his belt was undone.  “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kurt,” Kurt said.  He pulled down Blaine’s zipper and smiled as his dick popped out, happy to be in the fresh air.  No underwear.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“No…” Blaine said, swallowing hard as Kurt dipped his head down to kiss away the bead of pre-come that had already appeared.  “I just… wanted to know what name and I’m going to wish I could scream.”

“Kurt,” Kurt repeated.  He considered the situation, and then shifted to push himself under Blaine’s desk and pull Blaine with him.  He’d never used a guy’s dick as a handle to pull him in a rolling chair before, but dammit if the noise Blaine made was any indication he’d have to make a note to do it again.  “You’re going to want to scream Kurt.”

Blaine placed his hands on his desk and gripped hard as he felt Kurt’s lips brush his entire shaft as the man all but swallowed him up beneath his desk.  “Fuck, Kurt,” he whispered, as Kurt pulled back, only to swallow him again, and again, and again.  

It wasn’t going to take long, not with Kurt’s tongue flicking the tip of his dick each time he pulled up, or with Kurt’s thumbs pressing into the junction where his thighs met his hips, or his fingers grabbing and pressing into the tender flesh of his thighs hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow.  Blaine groaned, low and slow, a primal sound that would have to compensate for not being able to scream as Kurt shifted to scraping his teeth along the sensitive underside, which fuck if he only knew --

Kurt didn’t still when he felt Blaine’s dick jump and start to release.  He swallowed each pulse, using his tongue to coax what more he could, until Blaine let go of his grip on the desk and reached under to palm Kurt’s cheek.  With one last, slow scrape of his teeth, he let Blaine’s dick fall damp and spent against his trousers.  

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered as his chair was pushed back and Kurt emerged from under his desk.  He leaned back, his cool demeanor collapsing as he looked up through his own lashes as Kurt stood in front of him.

Blaine was flushed, the hair around his face damp from sweat, and his dick languidly out for anyone who walked by the cubicle to see.  He did that to him, Kurt thought.  He had the upper hand now.  He reached a thumb up to wipe any trace of Blaine from his lips before smiling and turning to exit the cubicle without a word.  

It took a long moment for Blaine to realize that he was sitting in an open cubicle, obviously well fucked, and should probably do something about it before anyone else walked past.  Before he could, he realized Kurt had left his pile of paperwork on the floor.

He should return the paperwork.  And the favor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Blaine needs a break, and the girls take him to a Christmas strip club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word: Drink

Blaine pocketed his ID hesitantly as he took in the overwhelming decor -- he’d not expected it took look like Christmas exploded all over the room.  And even exploded was putting it gently.  There wasn’t a hall that wasn’t decked, a table trimmed, or a wall festooned with glitter and Christmas cheer.  Not one surface, save for the stage in the middle, which while obviously painted with some sort of glitter on acrylic, was the only place that it seemed safe to move around.

Which, when one thought about it, made sense.

“Guys, I know that you mean well, but did it have to be a strip club?” Blaine asked.  

Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina all turned to look at him, all looking far too pleased with themselves by half.  “It’s Naughty St. Nick night,” Mercedes said.  “And guys drink half off.  Cute guys drink free,” she chuckled.

“And you desperately need a drink,” Tina added.  “You’ve done nothing but work work work for weeks.  You deserve a bit of fun.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t we have just, I dunno, got drunk on eggnog and played Settlers of Catan at home?” Blaine asked.

Rachel turned and placed both hands up on his shoulders.  “Blaine, listen to me.  I’m going to give you the same advice that the members of my Jewish musical theater pre-union performers book club gave me when I was working on perfecting my audition piece for the gender-swapped revival of Carousel so hard that I didn’t sleep for five days straight and ended up breaking out into song in the middle of a Duane Reade completely unaware that this sort of beauty would not be appreciated by 80% of the tone deaf sad sacks in line.”  She leaned in closer.  “You need to relax and take a break or else someone is going to accidentally tie you to a light pole outside of the Richard Rogers and pin a sign on you that there are Hamilton tickets somewhere on your person and watch as people tear you limb from limb.”

“That seems… awfully specific,” Blaine said.

“We’ll have a few drinks, we’ll ogle a few guys, it’ll be fun,” Mercedes promised.  

“So, they’re guys stripping?” Blaine asked as Tina herded them into seats in the very front.

“Oh yes,” Rachel replied.  “I’m surprised you aren’t aware of this place.  I thought you were up on all the hot guy gossip.”

“Yeah, but not… strip clubs…” Blaine sighed.  A cocktail waiter in the tiniest shorts he’d ever seen on an ass that perky brought a round of blight blue shots.  What was it a shot of?  Blaine didn’t ask.  He didn’t actually want to know.  Rachel was right.  He did need to relax.  He needed to relax, and not think about work, or his ex, or anything other than drinking this shot, then another, and then hoping that the stripper took Visa because he’s pretty sure he only has a total of $7 in cash in his wallet.  

Ten minutes and three electric blue shots later, the lights started to dim and the women around him started to flip out.  Even if this turned out to be a dud, it made for a good story for his next article.  ‘Local man gets lit at Christmas strip club’.  Nah, he needed a better angle.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you may be chilly right now, but it’s about to get real warm up on the North Pole tonight.  Please give a festive holiday welcome to Kurt Kringle!”

Blaine’s eyes went wide as a gorgeous man strolled out onto stage to the purring lyrics of Eartha Kitt’s ‘Santa Baby’.  He was expecting more Magic Mike and not… fuck, when did he start finding stilettos and a full length fur coat sexy?  But this guy, with his toned legs, and perfectly coiffed hair, and eyes that seemed to sparkle as they fixated on him was… hot.  

Wait, no, Blaine, the stripper was not fixating on you.  Don’t be foolish.  He’s fixated on all of them.  For the money, for his job.

The ladies went wild once the fur coat was flung off leaving Kurt in red lame pants and no shirt.  There was a big black belt with a gold belt buckle ostensibly holding the pants up, but considering how tight they were, he knew the belt wasn’t doing shit.  

And honestly, with how tight those pants were, how was he able to swing his legs so smoothly around the pole in the middle of the stage?  And fuck, those pants didn’t hide anything did they?  Taught thighs helped hold him perpendicular to the stage, and Blaine could only imagine how strong they’d be holding on to something else.  LIke his waist.  Oh good, he was going to fantasize about the Santa stripper’s strong thighs squeezing him until he came.  That’s just what he needed right now.  

Kurt sauntered off the stage to the squeals and delights of the women in the audience, but his head whipped around to Blaine… and he smiled.  It took Blaine a moment to realize what had caught Kurt’s attention -- Rachel goddamn Berry waving a $100 bill.  With Kurt over by their chairs, he placed a finger on Blaine’s lips and smiled.  “I think someone’s been a naughty boy,” he murmured.  

“Very!” Tina yelled, grabbing the money out of Rachel’s hand and tucking it into the waistband of Kurt’s impossibly tight pants.  “Make him be a good boy, Santa!”

Before Blaine could put up even a token opposition, those muscular thighs were settle on either side of his chair, Kurt’s ass sinking so low that they bumped his legs on each pump down, and his… candy cane and jingle bells so close to Blaine’s lips he could almost kiss them on the pop up.  Without thinking, Blaine’s hands went to Kurt’s hips, and then slid back to hold on to his ass.  God, what an ass.  Each movement as he bumped and grinded against Blaine flexed under the red lame and almost fucking sparkled.  Blaine felt himself get hard as he imagined what was under those pants -- not that he had to imagine hard.  They were so tight they even hide shame.  He’d originally thought the pants might get torn off, but with his hands on god’s most perfect ass right now, there wasn’t a fabric seam to be felt.  There was nothing under the fabric but skin and sex and fuck, Rachel was right about him needing something, but it wasn’t to relax… it was to get laid.

Blaine pressed his fingers into Kurt’s ass a little harder causing Kurt to chuckle and place a finger on Blaine’s lips.  Blaine took the opportunity to let his mouth fall open just enough for the finger to slip onto his tongue.

He was going to get thrown out.  This was not how you behaved in a strip club, Blaine was sure.  He was going to get yanked up and grabbed by a bouncer and then thrown out on his face in the cold.  But the girls were cheering, and Kurt… Blaine didn’t dare look down to check, but he was pretty sure his cheek was starting to get brushed by a hard dick underneath those impossibly tight pants.  And it had been so long since he’d broken up with his ex, and so long since he’d done anything for himself, that he let his imagination run wild.  This impossibly sexy man on his lap, moving like that, looking at him like that.  Blaine could gather that Kurt was hard, and Blaine could feel himself filling up the front of his jeans quickly, but there was nothing he could do about it.  He dare not let go of Kurt to slip a hand into his own lap and become that pervert and then really get thrown out.  

With the song winding down, Kurt slid back down into Blaine’s lap, grinding his hips down onto Blaine’s erection to make an obvious point, and motioned for the audience to give him a round of applause for being a good and sexy sport.  Blaine gasped at the sudden feeling of contact and tried desperately not to bite his lip or whimper as Kurt shifted absently against his dick.  He knew what he was doing, Blaine was sure about that.  And it was too much for Blaine, too goddamn glorious much.  

As he pushed back to stand up, Kurt let his head fall down to Blaine’s ear and whispered, “If you want to actually slip a sable under my tree, Starlight diner, 1am.”

Blaine swallowed hard and managed a nod as Kurt pulled back, winked at him, and then gathered his fur coat with a flourish.

“See?” Rachel said, as the lights came back up as they readied the next performer.  “You just needed to relax.  Aren’t you glad we brought you here?”

“Yes,” Blaine squeaked, finally finding his voice again and hating that it was obvious he enjoyed himself.  “Yes… I’m very glad I came.”


End file.
